Chapter 1
Eleanor Abernathy gasped, the air around her heavy with a suffocating despair. Somewhere in the haze of her mind, she heard someone repeating a heart-wrenching chant. “It’s your fault! You killed my son! You have to pay for what you did… just die… die…” The words echoed, growing sharper and more vivid as she emerged from the fog of unconsciousness—and the pain surged with it. Eleanor felt a constricting pressure against her mouth and nose, a hand attempting to smother her. Instinct kicked in. With hardly a thought, Eleanor lashed out, her leg connecting solidly with the person suffocating her. Instantly, fresh air flooded in, filling her lungs. But a jolt of confusion hit her; her body felt unresponsive, sluggish. Had her physical abilities deteriorated? As she blinked her eyes open, expecting to see the sterile interior of her oxygen chamber or the alien landscape of a battlefield on X-12, she instead found herself staring at the rough, clay walls of a humble cottage. A cascade of memories assaulted her, flashbulbs of information sparking within her mind. Skymoon Expanse, Eldoria Confederation. The notion of a confederation was no stranger to her. Long before this moment, she had fought valiantly across the galaxy, battling the forces of a powerful alliance that spanned solar systems. But Eldoria Confederation? That was new to her—a nation so vast it dominated a third of Skymoon Expanse, and yet she had never encountered it before. Where was the Empire? Eleanor realized she was waking in a remote star system, a backwater filled with primitive planets, untouched by the war machines she had known so well. These places were lush with greenery, untouched by ruthless alien invaders, and had remained largely undeveloped, surviving like forgotten corners of the universe. Pollution didn't threaten them, but the drawbacks were clear: technology here was rudimentary, civilization barely managed to scrape by, and the physical condition of its inhabitants was pitiful. As the weeping voice drew near, Eleanor shook her head, grappling with the influx of overwhelming sensations. She needed to focus on the present. A middle-aged man burst through the door, rushing to intercept the angry figure of a woman behind him. “Mom! Stop! Don’t you dare do that! She’s the one Samuel saved! If you smother her, he dies for nothing!” Eleanor blinked, her thoughts snapping back as she took in the scene before her. A haggard sixty-something woman, Liam, glared at her with a fury that could burn the very walls down. A towel draped in her hands, she looked ready to pounce. A torrent of understanding surged within Eleanor. In that instant, she knew why Liam wished her dead. Somehow, she had become more than just Eleanor Abernathy. That legendary hero had perished in an accident, and now she was left inhabiting the body of a woman who had leapt from a cliff, spiraling into chaos. The irony weighed heavily on her. This woman, the original Eleanor, had fled a marriage—a forced union to an officer affiliated with the Confederation—a far cry from a typical elopement. She had run away with a local schoolteacher, only to find herself deceived and sold into a life of servitude in these mountains when her partner fell into gambling debts. At least the original hadn't been completely naive; she had escaped before the final agreement was sealed. But in her despair, she could only think of the consequences of her actions, the shame of fleeing a wedding bound by law. Her family would not let her go unpunished, and returning would open her up to mockery and scorn. Eventually becoming overwhelmed by heartbreak, she had taken a final plunge—both from the cliff and into hopelessness. Eleanor tightened her jaw. She understood the gravity of her situation. If Samuel had hurled himself into danger for her, then she owed it to him and to herself to navigate this disaster. However, her current form lacked strength. Grateful for the luck of not being physically injured in the tumble down the hillside, Eleanor scanned the room. Liam wailed in grief, tears streaming down her face. “What more could we endure? First, our daughter-in-law, now this? Samuel was all we had!” Beside her, a man whom Eleanor recognized as Charles echoed her despair, crying openly for their lost son. The situation was a bitter irony; Samuel had returned from the military only to die, drawn back home by the tragic news of his mother’s passing. The world watched as the Hargrove family crumbled, their hopes thwarted by grief and loss. The door swished open again, letting in a taller man—another Charles, older but bearing a striking resemblance to the other. “Mother, I cleaned up Samuel. Dressed him nicely; he deserves to go in peace.” He glanced at Eleanor, a scornful look dancing in his eyes. The room fell silent as Eleanor faced their scrutiny, the weight of their expectations crashing down on her. The grief-stricken charade left her feeling more like a pawn in a game she had no idea how to play. Finally, the eldest Charles spoke up, sensing the tension thick in the air. “We must ensure Samuel’s departure is honorable. His sacrifice for this town deserves respect,” he said, discontent washing over him as he regarded Eleanor. “Maybe…it’s time for someone to step up in Samuel’s place. Let her take his spot in the military.” The room froze, the suggestion hanging like a guillotine’s blade. Eleanor’s heart pounded in her chest. The implications were vast and terrifying. She was trapped in a web of responsibilities that were never hers, tangled in a legacy of despair. But beneath the fear, an embers of determination flickered within her. She wasn't just a fleeting name. If she had come to occupy this original soul’s life, she wouldn’t abandon it so easily. For Samuel—who had sought to save her life—Eleanor knew she had a fight ahead of her.
Chapter 2
Jasper Thackery blinked, momentarily dumbfounded by his eldest son’s audacity. “You can’t be serious, Arthur. She’s a woman.” Arthur shrugged, his expression smug. “So what if she is? As long as she looks like Samuel, who’s gonna notice? Soldiers sleep in their skivvies at night anyway.” Jasper’s frown deepened, shadowing his features. “Have you lost your mind? If anyone finds out, Samuel will be the one to take the fall.” He cast a glance at Benjamin, the middle son, who was always a bit clueless. It was no surprise he hadn’t spoken up—Arthur was steering the ship as usual. But the more Arthur thought about it, the more he considered what a brilliant plan it could be. Benjamin had never been one to suggest ideas; that was always Arthur's territory. If he could just get Jasper on board, they could roll with this. They were running out of time. Samuel needed a cover, and if Jasper agreed, they could keep Samuel's death under wraps for a while longer. But time was not on their side; the longer this dragged on, the more difficult it would be to maintain the ruse. “Miss, where are you from? What made you go through with such a reckless choice?” Arthur asked, his curiosity piqued. Perhaps he could get through to this girl. Eleanor Abernathy stood nearby, feeling every bit the stranger. She was a former Imperial Soldier; joining the Militia Camp might actually be a boon, despite the unsettling situation. Mere mention of a “military camp” conjured some familiarity; maybe it would help her think clearer about her current predicament. But pretending to enlist for someone else? That was another matter entirely. “I ran away with someone and got dumped.” Eleanor’s response was blunt and matter-of-fact. Jasper's brow furrowed, horrified. “A good girl like you elopes? What on earth were you thinking?” The conversation took an even more scandalous turn. “Not a girl anymore; I’m married.” Jasper’s eyes bulged, while Arthur’s expression darkened. Benjamin stole a glance at his older brother and quickly looked away. “After getting married, you ran off with someone else?” Jasper pressed incredulously. Eleanor’s expression was impassive. “Why would I elope before marriage?” Silence enveloped the room as the weight of her admission sunk in. A married woman abandoning her husband was scandalous, and Jasper’s mind raced with how this would be perceived back home. Even if they managed to locate her family, the husband would refuse to take her back, and her own kin would see her as a disgrace. There wouldn’t be enough compensation in the world to smooth things over. If this had been Jasper’s daughter, she’d have been swiftly kicked out on her ear. For a moment, Jasper contemplated sending Eleanor back home. “Arthur, you just suggested we send her to the front lines as Samuel. But don’t you realize the camp is filled with men? What if they discover she’s a woman?” Arthur beamed, seeing Jasper’s interest piqued. “That’s exactly it! Listen, Samuel just enlisted and look what’s happened. We can’t afford another man to go to war. So how about this—why don’t you take Samuel’s place? You’ll endure a bit of hardship, but we can help you find a good family to marry you off once you’re back. Otherwise, you’ll end up with that old drunk from the east side of the village. We’ve just lost a soldier, and there’s no way I’ll let you walk away empty-handed. You see what I’m saying?” Arthur’s gaze bore into Eleanor, his seriousness palpable. Eleanor bit her lip, trying to weigh her options. The proposition was preposterous—becoming a stand-in soldier for someone else—but looking at Arthur made it clear that there wouldn't be any alternatives offered. This place was different from the world she knew, and the rules felt shifted. She had to play along, at least for now. “Fine. I’ll take Samuel's place,” Eleanor replied coolly. Until she gained her strength back, impulsive choices were off the table. Arthur’s demeanor softened with relief. “Perfect. Just don’t let anyone figure out you’re a woman for the next three years, and when you come back, we’ll set you up nicely.” Eleanor didn’t mull it over much; she’d spent years being mistaken for a man in the heat of battles before, so blending in didn’t seem like a daunting task, especially with her urgent need to understand her new reality first. Later, she would find out that this was only the tip of the iceberg of absurdity. Jasper kept her mouth shut, pleased to finally have a use for a woman who seemed to bring only shame. The Thackery family had little understanding of laws and regulations, while Arthur was blinded by self-interest, ignoring the long-term consequences. Eleanor recognized the impropriety of the situation but also understood Arthur’s motives. This wasn’t her world, and she felt utterly lost. Maybe it was better to see how things unfolded; they might not be as dire as they seemed. In an unexpected twist of fate, a ludicrous plan was set in motion. Arthur made arrangements for Samuel Abernathy’s secret burial, ensuring he was laid to rest in the Thackery family plot without fanfare or a headstone. “Samuel, you and your brother were tight. Now that you’re gone, your brother needs to fill your shoes. We’ve only got you two boys, and we can’t let him be drafted now,” Arthur murmured by the grave. “Three years. I promise, Samuel, once she comes back, we’ll give you the celebration you deserve. No one’s gonna laugh at you for this.” It was customary in the village to observe mourning rituals; a passing deserved to be honored, so Arthur felt bad for not holding a proper ceremony for Samuel. But in the Thackery household, the loss weighed heavier than that of a son—it concerned the lineage of their family. The following day, Arthur directed Benjamin to shear Eleanor’s hair, cropping it to mimic Samuel’s prior look—short, with just a bit left to fall forward over her forehead. Once she washed her face, the results were striking. Eleanor had always been an attractive woman, her features delicately androgynous, and with the new haircut, she looked convincingly like a young man. Staring at her reflection in the dusty, cracked mirror, she saw a handsome young lad looking back at her, eerily reminiscent of Samuel Abernathy. The original memories surfaced; she was no stranger to the notion of pretending to be someone else. She looked ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
Chapter 3
**Cheap Husband** Seeing Eleanor Abernathy step into the dim light of the early morning, Lennox and his buddies felt a flicker of relief. They had given her a warning, a friendly scare, about keeping her head down. If anyone caught wind of her presence, they were clear: they wouldn’t claim responsibility. Whatever happened would be on Eleanor. In their minds, this was a foolproof plan, a way to dodge any fallout. No one mentioned the question of allowances, and Eleanor didn’t bring it up either. The next morning, Arthur Kingsley guided Eleanor through the winding paths to where Samuel Abernathy was stationed, careful to avoid the prying eyes of villagers. They had to take a long bus ride since the base was out of state. The bumps and jolts of the journey were relentless, the kind that made every stop feel like a victory. Finally disembarking, just as Eleanor opened her mouth to say something, Arthur leaned against a tree, retching. Eleanor had never seen anything like this; it was a world so stuck in the past that wheels still turned in place—no tech, no modern conveniences, not even maglev trains. When they arrived at Concord Gate, Richard Abernathy glanced at Edward Sinclair standing guard at the entrance, soldiers bustling about, military trucks rumbling past. Feeling the heaviness of guilt, he nudged Eleanor forward, gesturing for her to go in alone while he veered off to the side. As Eleanor approached the imposing gate adorned with the menacing emblem of a star beast, she clutched her Alliance credentials and strode ahead, her heart racing. Beneath her calm facade, she felt a raw twinge of anxiety. “New recruit?” The soldier tasked with registration raised an eyebrow at her credentials. Eleanor nodded, drawing a breath. “I had to take leave to attend a family funeral.” The soldier’s expression shifted to understanding, but then he squinted, studying her closely. “This is you?” An unexpected tightness gripped Eleanor's chest as she nodded again. “Yes, that’s me.” “Just doesn’t look quite right,” the soldier muttered, his brow furrowing. Eleanor pressed her lips together and said, “Please take a closer look.” He held the ID up against her face, but his confusion only deepened. He called over to the duty officer. “Hey, Thomas Blackwood, come take a look at this.” Eleanor held her ground, her expression steady. She knew there was a slight resemblance to Samuel and maintained her cool. “What's up?” Thomas called back, his voice echoing. “Check this out—something feels off. I think the photo and the person don’t match.” The soldier handed her credentials to Thomas. Thomas inspected the ID, then glanced back at Eleanor, his expression contemplative. Eleanor turned, her dark, penetrating eyes locking onto him in silence. Under her unwavering gaze, Thomas felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He hesitated, then finally said, “It's close. Just... looks a bit thinner.” Eleanor remained impassive, her tone icy. “My mother just passed away. I’ve just buried her.” The soldier's demeanor softened; he nodded. “Alright, go on in.” Eleanor exhaled, the weight on her chest lifting just a bit. “Thank you.” From a distance, Richard Abernathy observed with bated breath as Eleanor finally made it through. A wave of relief washed over him, and he lit up a dry cigarette, turning back. The Great River had emerged unscathed. Now, his thoughts drifted to the nuisance of finding a new wife for Benjamin. Samuel had nothing better to do, sticking his nose into everything, always meddling. As Eleanor stepped past the gates, her clenched fists slowly relaxed. Walking down the expansive path of the military base, she felt lost. Where was she supposed to go? The Novice Battalion, of course. But with no signs to guide her, she had to rely on her instincts or find someone to ask. “Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the new recruits?” Eleanor grabbed the arm of a soldier who passed by, not even looking. She only realized later that she had stopped Henry Sinclair. But even that fleeting thought was eclipsed by the striking features that caught her eye. This soldier exuded a magnetic charm and a dangerous aura that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. His eyes were sharp and glinted with intensity, locking onto hers with a predatory focus that made her heart race. However, it wasn’t just the imposing figure before her; it was the name they shared. Wasn’t this her cheap husband, Robert Carleton? What was he doing here?
Chapter 4
**The Last Thing She Needed** Eleanor Abernathy wasn’t having the best of days. She’d just been trying to make it through another mundane afternoon when, of all people, she collided with none other than her estranged husband, Charles. With a tight-lipped semblance of calm, she surveyed him through her dark, observant eyes, heart racing at the thought of being recognized. “Keep moving, Third Field,” Robert Carleton’s low voice rumbled, cutting through the tense air. Eleanor stood still as Robert’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes narrowing in appraisal. She could feel his scrutiny as he took in her appearance, frowning ever so slightly. She had perfected the art of being unremarkable, a ghost in plain sight, but here stood Charles, inspecting her as if she were on display. The memory of their awkward wedding, hastily arranged with no real ceremony attached, flashed in her mind. Truth was, they had never really been married in the eyes of the law—no certificate, no reality. Just a charade masquerading as matrimony. This thought brought a wave of relief washing over her. It sunk in that she wouldn’t be facing any kind of legal consequences. Eleanor let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her once-stiff demeanor softening. The soldiers around them were now murmuring, some casting curious glances at her. It seemed the new recruit had stirred some intrigue. “Was that the new guy?” Robert asked his companion, Henry Sinclair. Henry nodded, “Yeah, I think he just got back from a family emergency.” Frederick Ferguson, another soldier in the circle, piped up. “The whole battalion’s been buzzing about it. Kind of tragic, you know? But they’ve kept it low-key.” Robert frowned, “Aren’t we supposed to have higher standards when it comes to recruits? If this is what they’re handing us now, we’re in trouble.” Frederick couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He knew Robert loathed anything that didn’t fit his rigid mold of strength and resilience. The new recruit was all skin and bones, his gangly frame a far cry from the toughened soldiers Robert preferred. “Henry, come on, you know it’s not like we’re choosing special ops here. This kid’s fresh off the boat, just needs some time to toughen up,” Frederick shot back, trying to defend the poor guy. The last thing Robert wanted was another weakling dragging down the team, and Frederick could see the disdain brewing in his captain’s expression. “Make sure the Novice Battalion gets that kid up to speed, would you?” Robert’s words were sharp, laced with the unsaid warning that failure wouldn’t be tolerated. Frederick felt a twinge of sympathy for the newcomer; of all the places to find himself, he’d had the misfortune to cross paths with Robert’s iron-fisted expectations. As the orders were given, Eleanor watched from a distance, her heart thrumming with conflict. She didn’t need the chaos of Charles, Robert, or any other soldier in her life right now. The weight of their past loomed heavy over her, but for a moment, it felt like she could finally breathe—free from the obligations she had never truly embraced. With Charles still oblivious to her, Eleanor turned, navigating her own path away from the tangled mess of their lives.
Chapter 5
**Intelligence with Zero Emotional IQ** “Robert, your mom called a few days ago. She said she really needs to talk to you. You should give her a call back,” Instructor Henry Sinclair said as Robert Carleton stepped into the cramped office. Robert nodded, the weight of his mother's urgency settling over him like a dark cloud. He debated whether to reach out to the rural town where his grandmother and mother had been living for the last six months. They were probably still stuck there, clinging to that simple life. Just the thought of them twisted his stomach into knots. The call went through quickly. Their village had recently gotten a phone; it wasn’t the first one, but it sure felt like a luxury. “Robert, there's something your mom needs to tell you,” her voice cracked through the speaker, thick with emotion. “What is it? You can just say it,” he replied, feeling a tension mounting in his chest as he caught the tremor in her voice. Henry, sensing the heaviness of the moment, wisely stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “Robert, your wife... she...” His mother's voice trailed off, the words tangled in her throat. “Please, just tell me,” Robert urged, forcing patience into his tone. A long pause followed, stretching painfully. “Oh, honey, it’s all my fault... I should’ve listened to you. I should have never pushed you into marrying her. Turns out she ran off... with a schoolteacher from town. I thought I was doing the right thing by setting things up for you, thinking you’d finally settle down. It’s so embarrassing!” Margaret Carleton had considered going to the police, but with rumors buzzing and her son’s future at stake, she felt paralyzed. At least they were in a village where most people didn’t know them intimately. Robert listened without a flicker of emotion. He hadn’t taken that wedding seriously; he barely stayed long enough to toast. As a soldier in the Concord Army, he knew the drill—rules mattered. So... “Mom, you didn’t think I’d leave my unit without filing a leave form, did you? You were planning to throw this banquet without the proper protocol? Oh my God, what a mess! If I didn’t apply ahead, just... don’t!” Even though both his mother and grandmother were part of the military community, they had a reputation for their wild plans. They had concocted this ludicrous scheme to organize everything without his consent, thinking he’d just roll with it. Anyone hearing this would know how utterly ridiculous it was! Robert felt duped as soon as he arrived, realizing they had set up an entire farce. He turned on his heel and left the yard without a second thought. Later, with both women crying and demanding he man up, he begrudgingly submitted the leave application—like it was just another mission to complete. So here he was, staring at his desk. He pulled open the drawer, revealing an already approved marriage application with his details and a photo stuck to it. Underneath? The other party's information, the photo obscured by the document. He shut the drawer and locked it again. “I get it. If there's nothing else, I’ll hang up now,” Robert stated, cutting off his mother’s next complaint before it could tumble out. If Frederick Ferguson caught wind of this whole debacle, he wouldn’t bat an eye. To Sergeant Carleton, this was just another task to tick off. Feelings? Ha! This was Robert Carleton we’re talking about—emotions were like a foreign language to him! The thought of Sergeant Carleton ever actually developing feelings for a woman seemed as outrageous as expecting pigs to fly. He glanced back at the single photo again, barely remembering anything except that she looked put-together—though a bit frail. But in certain circles, at least looking neat was a win. Until it got in the way of a mission. He'd handle the divorce papers later; writing them now would just cause more drama than it was worth.
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